Evolution's Child
by otherkate
Summary: Pre-slash. Methos watched a really awful TV movie, and Duncan catches a clue.


Evolution's Child

A Highlander Fanfiction

By Otherkate

A sharp intense feeling worked its way up through Duncan MacLeod's spinal cord and ended up pulsing away in his brain; he groaned. The particular feeling that accompanied an approaching Immortal was never something he wanted to feel, but this particular Immortal was a known quantity. Ever since Bordeaux, Mac had been able to 'feel' Methos' approach and could discern his 'buzz' from other Immortals. Thankfully the steady thrum began to ebb away.

Briefly, the Highlander thought about pulling out his sword just to rattle the old man, but he discarded the idea. Then it was too late. The Ancient One yanked open the elevator door and stomped into the loft. His sharp lean features were set in an affronted expression that bordered on amusement

"God, I hate Hollywood." He snorted and threw himself onto the couch only to scrunch down into the cushions until his butt was practically off the seat.

"Make yourself at home." Duncan smiled. Methos was sometimes melodramatic about things, and now appeared to be one of those times.

"Thanks." Methos said without looking in Duncan's direction. "I can't believe I watched that damn movie." He began to pick lint off his faded jeans and scowled.

"What movie?" Duncan asked as he grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, and then moved into the living area. Handing the bottle to his friend, he sat in the chair to listen as Methos explained what had put his knickers in a twist.

"It was a made for TV movie based on some idiotic book." Methos rolled his eyes. "I know I'm not beautiful. I'm not really even pretty. Hell, I look . . . interesting. But I sure as shit don't look or act like a prehistoric caveman."

Duncan paused slightly and then asked, "What was the movie about?" He was completely lost now.

"Scientists found a 3,500 year old frozen corpse. Well, this doctor gets a sample of the corpse's DNA and uses it to help fertilize an egg from a woman who is trying to have a baby. She has the baby. Amazingly enough, stone age human DNA made the baby psychotic and almost animalistic. It was an idiotic, silly, trite, banal movie." He shook his head in disgust.

"Ah." Duncan smiled. No wonder Methos was ticked off. The old immortal would have already been 1500 years old when the fictional corpse died.

"They said that the man would have been virtually undistinguishable from modern humans." Methos abruptly stood up and pointed to himself. "Like I'm not?" He stomped around the room for a few seconds. "Frankly, I've done some studies of facial features over my considerable life and can tell you with absolute certainty that if you were to guess where I came from today just based on my facial features you would say the British Isles. Possibly Wales or Ireland. More likely Wales. Roman influence and all that." He tapped his nose for a second, but then shook his head.

Methos glanced over at Duncan and took note of the slight smile the Highlander was trying to hide. "You think this is funny?"

"Well, it's just a movie." Duncan offered lamely, knowing Methos wasn't about to buy that particular argument.

"Right, like some history books state the Holocaust never happened."

"That's different." Duncan sputtered, "A fictional movie is different than history."

"No, they are the same. One is just extrapolated from proven facts while the other is based on made up facts. Case in point: Cleopatra and Marc Antony had an affair. Everyone just assumes they were in love. There are movies, plays, and books that discuss that particular pair, yet none of them stay with the documented facts. Every single one of them goes further."

"Come on. Cleopatra and Marc Antony were real people. Based on what they did you can infer certain things. The movie you watched was based on a fictional book. They aren't the same."

"Only by degree. Take us for example. Some people could infer that we're having an affair." Methos motioned expansively around the loft, beer bottle still in hand. "I mean, I come to town and stay with you for weeks at a time. You let me pilfer from your fridge and wardrobe. We've gone to the floor for each other on a few occasions, no sexual pun intended, and invade each other's personal space. The fact that we aren't sleeping together is irrelevant. In our case 1 + 1 doesn't equal two."

Duncan blinked at him for a few seconds, before he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Methos, I think you're overanalyzing things again."

"Stay with me on this. Mac." Methos sat down on the table just in front of the Highlander. "Facts are facts. But, those same facts are recorded by people who are imperfect and in turn interpreted by people who are again imperfect. For example, there are things I remember happening that have never been recorded, yet can easily be supported by the documented facts passed down through history.

"It's like the idiocy with Richard III. Was he or wasn't he a hunchback? Was he or wasn't he the one who killed the princes in the tower? Was he or wasn't he a homosexual? We'll never know because the people in charge of history at that time were in the employ of Richard's enemy: the man who took the crown and then ruled England. Some years later Shakespeare couldn't write a play sympathetic to Richard since Henry's direct descendant, Elizabeth I, was on the throne.

"History makes men, MacLeod. Not the other way around."

MacLeod shook his head, "I understand your argument, but I still think some people will rise to the top regardless of the era they are born in."

"Well, to listen to the Hollywood types who made that piece of shit last night, I should change my name to Dr. Dolittle. Commune with the animals and all that crap. Not to mention be the most accurate meteorologist ever."

"Come on, Methos. It was a movie. It wasn't real." Duncan rolled his eyes.

"Yes, but it was based on 'fact'. Or rather, what the producers thought was fact. The sad part is that I can't just show up on their doorstep and say they're wrong. People 3,500 years ago looked just like them. And guess what? People 5,000 years ago were the same too. No one had a receding forehead, over pronounced brow ridge, or underslung jaw. To find those you have to go waaay back."

"They didn't say that did they?" Duncan frowned.

"No. But the whole idea that man was still pre-civilized 3,500 years ago is stupid. I can name several civilizations that existed back then."

"Methos. They didn't do it to offend you." Duncan couldn't believe the Old Man was this worked up over a made for TV movie.

"I didn't think they had." Methos said snidely. "Fine. What if some suit in Hollywood decided to make a movie that said all Scots were descended from pre-civilized cannibalistic Celts and that's why they were always defeated by the English."

"Tha's different! An yew know it Methos." Duncan shot out of his chair and glared down at the Ancient Immortal sitting on his coffee table. Seemingly unaware that Methos' nose was mere inches away from his crotch, the Highlander shook his head, "Yew did tha a'puprose."

The Highlander closed his eyes and paused, but then sitting back down he studied the slight smirk on the Old Man's face. "All right. I guess I deserved that. I don't like someone disparaging my people. I imagine you'd have difficulty with yours as well."

Methos shook his head, "People, as in clan, no. Even if I did remember my people, I wouldn't romanticize them. Culture and custom change over time." He sighed, and rubbed one long finger over his lips before standing up and moving back to the couch.

Duncan leaned back and waited for the silent figure to begin speaking again.

Methos smiled softly, "I'm upset over the portrayal of an era--a time that I can't really put into words. Life meant nothing, but was conversely worshiped in the temples. It didn't matter that your children died since you had so many of them. Of course, the whole reason you had so many children was to compensate for the high death rate. Caring for someone was fine within family constraints once they reached a certain age and you were sure they weren't going to die, but love was never a valued commodity." Methos paused briefly to take a sip of his beer and then glanced over to Mac. The Highlander was taking this bit of rhapsodizing rather well, he thought.

"Are you saying people didn't fall in love?"

"Not the way you mean it. No." Methos said calmly.

"I find that hard to believe."

Methos leaned forward and said quietly, "Take Cleopatra and Marc Antony as an example again. They saw each other through the culture of their era. They didn't love each other the way we think of love now. They observed each other and weighed how much they could give each other politically, socially, culturally, and physically. He looked at her and saw Egypt. She looked at him and saw a chance at security for herself and Egypt. They knew it would be a gamble, but the payoff would have been worth it to them. Love never factored into the equation.

"But one constant remained back then and still exists today. Giving was allowed under strict cultural mores depending on the society, but the act of taking was commonplace and prevalent. Only people who could take and keep at the same time survived."

Duncan studied the older Immortal as he fell silent. Methos' eyes were focused on a past that MacLeod never wanted to know, but was perversely fascinated by. The Old Man seldom talked with him about any of his past regardless of era. Joe sometimes got snippets of comments, but Methos never offered them to Mac. A question popped into his mind but he stifled it, and hoped Methos would continue.

"I imagine you're wondering where the Horsemen fit into all this." The Oldest Immortal asked softly.

Mac nodded slightly, "Only if you want."

Methos smiled slightly, "Duncan. Haven't you realized yet, that I can't deny you?"

Startled, MacLeod shook his head in denial as Methos laughed softly. "You can be remarkably obtuse sometimes." He made a tsking sound and stood up to go into the kitchen. "I'm gonna get another beer. You want one?"

Mac just nodded, as he tried to make sense of what Methos was telling him.

"It's not all that difficult, MacLeod." Methos commented from the open refrigerator door. "I care a great deal for you. I've never hid the fact that I think you're the one who's destined to win the prize."

"I don't want it." Mac's voice was little more than a harsh whisper.

"That has no bearing on the Gathering, Duncan. The facts speak for themselves." Methos brought both beer bottles over to where the two immortals were talking and handed one to Mac.

"I don't want it." Duncan said a little louder.

"I know." Methos smiled softly as he sat back down on the couch.

Abruptly, Methos shook his head, "You wanted to know how the Horsemen fit into my life. Well, I was tired of running. I was bored with life, and I hated having to look over my shoulder every day, every year, every century. They gave me security. I never had to worry about other Immortals, much less mortals. I could be Methos, plain and simple. I never had to hide a cut, or leave town because I never got any older. We could talk about the past instead of hiding the fact that we'd lived through it. We never had to pretend to be mortal. I've never been as free or as liberated as I was then."

"Methos, you slaughtered people."

"Yes. I did. Life meant nothing to me, MacLeod. I was born and have spent most of my life living in eras where life was hard and you had to be vicious to survive. It took me a long time to overcome that: to realize that I needed to change just as all the cultures and societies around me changed. Society as you know it is different than it used to be.

"Hell, ask Amanda. She lived during a time when people were nothing more than fodder for the nobles, and that was only a thousand years ago. Life means very little when survival is at stake. The French and Russian Revolutions illustrate that, just as what happened in Kosovo does. Not to mention what's happening in Africa and the Middle East. People are the same: whether they're five thousand or twenty."

"You just disproved your own point that society was different back then." Duncan said.

"No. I didn't. People are the same. Cultures are different. When the society breaks down, people react much the same as they did when I was young. When things are going well, they are upstanding law abiding citizens; when the ties of civilization are loosened people tend to behave like animals. The only real difference is that there are more civilized people now than when I was young. Back then there were a few large societies, but what do you think life was like everywhere else?

"Now, it's the exact opposite. You have large pockets of societies and very small areas of cultural barbarism."

"I take it Kronos never made the jump from one to the other."

"No. He wanted to re-live it all again, and I have never been one to believe the myth about the good old days. What I was then I can't change, but I can determine what I am now. Kronos never understood that. Yes, the freedom he offered was attractive, but I'm not that person anymore."

They fell quiet, while Mac digested what Methos said. In some ways it explained Methos' reticence in interfering in other's business. It also explained his penchant for camouflage. You can't kill what you can't find, and while Mac understood that concept, he could never equate it with his view of the Old Man. MacLeod had a difficult time seeing Methos as a coward knowing how often the ancient one had protected his friends, and yet hiding seemed cowardly. The two had never jelled in his mind, but now, they fit perfectly. Stripped of all his contrivances Methos was the ultimate survivor. He was a man who understood the difference between need and want; someone who would fight if he had to, but rarely needed to. Methos was a man who understood his ego and id and managed to balance the two without his superego getting in the way.

"I'm glad you're not." Mac finally said after a few minutes of silence. This was the longest Methos had ever spent discussing his past with him, and the Highlander didn't want to discourage the Old Man from ever reminiscing again.

"So am I." Methos smiled, but then sighed. "That still doesn't erase the fact that I watched a truly idiotic movie last night." His eyes got huge as his expression begged for understanding. "My time is valuable."

Mac snorted, "Uh huh." He glanced at his watch, "Do I have any beer left?"

"A few bottles." Methos said, "Why? Wanna go bug Joe?"

"Sounds like fun." Mac grinned.

Smirking, together they bundled up into their coats, checked that their swords were safely tucked away on their person, locked up the loft, and headed out to Mac's car.

Silently they drove to Joe's, until Mac cleared his throat.

"Problem?" Methos asked, looking over at the Highlander's profile.

"Well, I was just wondering if . . . has anyone asked you if we were sleeping together?"

Methos laughed delightedly. "No. But then I've noticed a few interesting looks sent our way."

"Oh really? Who?" Mac tried to ask nonchalantly, but knew he'd failed when Methos laughed softly.

"No one who matters. Actually, it was a watcher I ran into the other day. Karrie must be outta the Methos loop, since she greeted me very warmly. Anyway, she asked me how I was doing, but then got this funny look on her face and asked about you. Followed quickly by a comment about your Lothario ways with the ladies." Methos grinned, "I almost said 'here fishie, fishie.' but, she wouldn't have taken that well."

"So was she fishing?"

"Hell, yes. She asked me how Amanda was handling our closeness. What do you think?"

"Fishing."

Methos only nodded, "Joe hasn't brought anything up, but I think it's crossed his mind."

"Noh." Mac sound slightly shocked. "He's read my chronical, he's got to know I've never played in that part of the field."

"Is that a colorful euphemism for you've never had sex with a guy?" Methos asked curiously.

Mac blushed but decided to be honest. "Well, I've done the usual circle jerk with Connor, Brian, or Warren. Nothing else though." He pulled up to the street in front of the bar and quickly parked.

"Oh. Well, that doesn't count as sex per se. Unless you handled someone else while you were doing it." Methos glanced at MacLeod questioningly.

"Ah. . . no. I didn't." Mac turned to look at his friend. "What about you? I know you like women, but have you ever had sex with a man?"

Methos looked at Duncan with an expression of amusement, tolerance, and disbelief. "Mac, I lived during the time of the Pharaohs, the Golden Years of Greece, the Roman Republic and Empire. I've even lived in a few monasteries where chastity wasn't the norm. What do you think?"

"I take that as a yes." Mac grinned.

"Yes." Methos opened the door of the car and slipped out to stand staring at the front of the bar.

Mac locked up the vehicle and walked over to stand next to Methos. "Problem?"

"No. Just wondered if Joe had managed to have the roofing checked. He was talking about it the other day." He turned to the Highlander. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Mac nodded, as they started walking toward Joe's. "How would you approach a guy if you were interested?"

"Well, I'd let him know I was interested in him. Check him out, so to speak. I'd let him know that I find him attractive, and I like his company."

"How?"

"Hmm." Methos opened the door and motioned for Mac to precede him, and then waved over to Joe who nodded at them from the busy bar. Glancing around, Methos tugged gently on Mac's arm and led him over to an empty table.

"Now, you want to know how I'd go about letting the object of my affections know of my intrest?" Methos asked.

"Yeah."

"Checking him out is a must when you first meet. You know, the 'once over'." When Mac nodded he continued, "Then I'd invite him to share a drink with me, and have a 'getting to know you' conversation."

"Okay." Mac nodded in understanding.

"Then I'd find a reason to see the person again, and try and become friends. One night stands are fine, but they get boring after a while." He paused when the waitress set a couple of beers on the table in front of them and pointed to Joe.

Mac and Methos grinned over at the watcher, but then turned back to each other. Mac smiled to himself, and wondered if Methos was saying what the Highlander thought he was saying.

"You called me obtuse earlier. Just how obtuse am I?" Mac asked quietly.

"Depends on if you want to stay that way."

"What does that mean?"

"It means friendship is important to me, and I don't want to ruin that on the hope of something else which might not work. So, you can still be obtuse if you want, or you can suddenly have an epiphany. It's entirely up to you."

Mac opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

"Take your time." Methos stood up and turned toward the bar.

Mac reached out to grasp the Ancient Immortal's forearm softly. "I thought your time was valuable," Mac said quietly as he ran his thumb along Methos' skin.

"It is." Methos smiled and walked away.

MacLeod studied the unhurried saunter of the Oldest Immortal and wondered what it would be like to sleep with him. Strangely, he wasn't disgusted. He found the whole idea rather intriguing. While he'd been honest in the car about never having sex with a man, he hadn't really offered the reason why. Quite simply, he'd never met a man he wanted to sleep with. Methos might be the exception. The question now was, could their friendship survive the experience?

Catching the Ancient Immortal's eyes from the bar, he smiled at the same question seen in Methos' expression.

Like Methos, Duncan rather thought it would.

Fin


End file.
